


Son, I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed

by MrSpockify



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambassador Sokka (Avatar), Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Humor, M/M, Minor Bato/Hakoda, Miscommunication, accidental sugardaddy Zuko strikes again, also just love the idea that Hakoda is a himbo supreme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26222881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpockify/pseuds/MrSpockify
Summary: While on a visit to the Fire Nation, Hakoda greatly misinterprets the relationship between his son and the Fire Lord.
Relationships: Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 1465





	Son, I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very much obsessed with the idea of everyone mistaking Zuko as Sokka's sugar daddy, so this happened.

Hakoda wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Fire Nation weather. He didn’t find himself there often, but when he did he was always struck by the oppressive heat. He’d spend the whole time wiping a seemingly endless stream of sweat from his brow and daydreaming of the snow and biting wind back home.

He really wasn’t sure how his son did this so often. Sokka, newly appointed ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe, split his time fairly evenly between home, the Fire Nation, and Republic City. Hakoda didn’t think he could stand spending 30% of his life slowly melting away.

As subtly as he could manage, Hakoda fanned his face as he followed a guard through the palace hallways. The Fire Lord had invited him personally—something about bringing back an annual festival to take place in a few days and wanting familiar faces around—and while Hakoda wasn’t usually one for parties, he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to come visit while his son was also here.

Much to his surprise, Hakoda found his son waiting for him in his guest quarters. The ambassador jumped up from the bed and launched himself into his father’s arms.

“Oomph!” Hakoda grunted as he was embraced and lifted up off the ground. He still wasn’t used to his own son being bigger than him. He remembered when Sokka was little and he would pick him up and toss him around like he weighed nothing. Hakoda didn’t even want to embarrass himself by trying to lift Sokka now.

“Dad! It’s good to see you,” Sokka announced. Hakoda’s feet met the ground again and he sighed, patting his son on the back.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

“You’re really sweaty,” Sokka grumbled, wiping his hands on his shirt as he pulled away. Hakoda rolled his eyes.

“I travel for weeks to see you and the first thing you do is complain,” he said, shaking his head.

“I hugged you first,” he corrected.

“And anyway,” Hakoda continued, “why aren’t _you_ sweaty? You can’t possibly think it’s not hot here.”

“I dressed for the weather, unlike _someone_ ,” Sokka said pointedly. Hakoda furrowed his brow, looking at his own clothes. It was what he normally wore, if just a little nicer than usual, and he was sure to wear a shirt without sleeves in the hopes that it would help with the heat. In retrospect, the fur-lined boots, he supposed, probably didn’t help.

He looked over at his son to see what he wore and was slightly taken aback. That definitely wasn’t something from back home. Sokka had on what looked like Fire Nation-style clothes in Water Tribe colors. The fabric was light and breathable, a set of deep blue robes with a silver sash around the center decorated with an intricate, jeweled design in a wave pattern. It looked very nice, but Hakoda was mostly jealous of the fact that Sokka looked like he wasn’t sweltering in it.

“You like?” Sokka asked, hands on his hips. He twisted from side to side like he was showing it off. “Zuko got it for me!”

“That was very generous of him,” Hakoda mused. Those robes were definitely expensive, and probably tailored to fit his son perfectly. Somewhere, in the dad part of his brain, he hoped he had taught his son enough manners and that Sokka had said thank you.

“Yeah, well, he said he was tired of me complaining about being hot all the time,” Sokka chuckled. “I guess I see what he means, now.”

The two didn’t have much time to chat before dinner. Hakoda cleaned himself up a bit after Sokka told him, again, that he was _very_ sweaty, and they headed off to the dining room to eat. Hakoda didn’t recognize that many people, apart from a few Kyoshi warriors, the Fire Lord’s uncle, and a particularly scary young woman who he had seen around a few times. He waved in greeting to Suki, glad that his son had remained good friends with her despite their breakup.

Sokka immediately plopped down beside Zuko and the two started the babble away. Hakoda sat beside his son and watched them, smiling to himself. He was relieved the Fire Lord had a friend like Sokka. He seemed much happier and at ease now, and he was sure his son had a lot to do with it. He had that effect on people.

A large group of servers bustled in and placed bowls and plates filled to the brim with food in front of everyone, and Hakoda stared in surprise at the familiar meal. They were eating an assortment of Southern food. He looked around at the seaweed noodles, sea prune stew, and roasted arctic hen. Leaning down, he gave a tentative sniff and smiled. Just like home.

“Isn’t it great?” Sokka asked, mouth already full of sea prunes. He hummed around the food, wiggling a little in his seat the same way he used to when he was little and Kya made a particularly delicious meal. Hakoda felt his chest swell with warmth at the memory.

“It looks wonderful,” he admitted. “But how…?” Hakoda knew for a fact that none of these foods were native to the area, and in fact most were exclusively from the South Pole.

“Zuko ships in food from the South, right to the palace so it’s still fresh,” Sokka explained. “He does it all the time when I’m here.”

Hakoda leaned over to glance at the Fire Lord, but he was turned away and engrossed in a conversation with his uncle. Hakoda raised an eyebrow, mentally trying to calculate just how much it had cost to ship in all of these foods _and_ keep them fresh from such a long distance. These were also generous portions, in his opinion. Much of it would probably go to waste.

And Zuko did this _all the time_? Hakoda wanted to disapprove, but perhaps it was the Fire Lord’s way of supporting Southern trade, which was thoughtful. And besides, it was nice to see Sokka enjoy himself. He watched his son happily dig into his food. Absentmindedly, he noted that Sokka’s portions seemed to be nearly twice as much as everyone else’s.

Hakoda shrugged and turned to his own meal.

At the end of the night, once everyone was stuffed full and the conversation had begun to dwindle, people headed off to bed. Hakoda and Sokka were mid-conversation about nothing in particular when they started to head down different hallways, Hakoda towards the guest rooms and Sokka in the opposite direction.

“Aren’t you going to bed?” Hakoda asked. He hadn’t seen which room his son was assigned to, but he had figured it would be nearby his own.

In response, Sokka furrowed his brow and laughed awkwardly. “I’m staying with Zuko,” he explained, as if it was obvious. Hakoda hadn’t realized they still had work to do tonight, but he supposed it made sense. The Fire Lord and Ambassador couldn’t just take a whole night off.

They bid each other goodnight, and Hakoda went to sleep. Or, rather, he tried to sleep. In the middle of the night, he groaned and tossed the covers off the bed entirely.

Spirits, it was so _fucking_ hot.

* * *

The next day, Sokka invited Hakoda to join him and Zuko in town for some shopping. Hakoda briefly thought that was a little odd—wouldn’t the Fire Lord have someone to do his shopping for him?—but agreed to come along to spend time with his son.

At least outside there was a nice breeze to give Hakoda some respite from the heat, and he sighed as the cool air washed over his face while they walked to the marketplace. His son was wearing more casual robes today, but they still weren’t entirely Water Tribe. Another gift from the Fire Lord, Hakoda assumed, taking in the fancy embroidered silk. Exactly how many outfits had Zuko bought Sokka?

They spent a while just walking down paths and weaving in and out of shops and stalls. He and Sokka caught up with each other, chatting away while Zuko trailed nearby behind them. He had on a cloak, the hood pulled up around his head to hide his face. Hakoda quickly realized the disguise wasn’t working, as he caught more than one bystander staring wide-eyed at their Fire Lord. Thankfully, no one approached.

“I was up against seven council members,” Sokka babbled on about a proposal he was working on passing. “All of them thought it was a dumb idea, but I knew— _Oh_!”

Suddenly, Sokka was gone. Hakoda looked over to see that his son had pressed himself against the window of a shop.

“Zuko, look!” Sokka called without looking away. He gestured wildly, and Hakoda followed Zuko over to see what it was. It looked like a bladesmith’s shop, the window display filled with an array of weaponry. “Do you think they have boomerangs?” Sokka asked, hands flat against the glass and eyes wide as they appraised the weapons.

“Let’s ask,” Zuko suggested, and they all walked into the shop.

Hakoda realized immediately this was not the type of shop he would ever go in on his own. A very select assortment of merchandise was set out on a few tables, none of them with price tags. A snooty looking shopkeeper barely glanced at them as they entered. The second Zuko dropped his hood, however, the man sprang into action and approached from behind a desk.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” the strange greeted, sprouting a slimy grin. “It is an honor to have you. What can I help you with today?”

As it turned out, they did not sell boomerangs. Sokka looked briefly disappointed, but his spirits quickly rose again when a small dagger caught his eye. He lifted the blade to the light, watching as the diamond-encrusted handle glinted in the sun. Hakoda nearly told him to set it back down before he broke it.

Behind him, he heard Zuko continue to talk quietly with the shopkeeper.

“Would you be able to create a customized weapon? He needs a replacement boomerang, mid-weight, bladed edge, something durable. An accompanying sheath, too.”

“Anything for you, sir,” the shopkeeper replied. Hakoda rolled his eyes. “It will take a few weeks, but I’m sure we can make something up to your standards.”

“The finished piece can be sent to the palace,” Zuko explained. “The dagger he’s holding over there, too. If you wouldn’t mind.” At that, Hakoda turned to look at the Fire Lord in surprise. A custom boomerang was one thing, but the jeweled knife, too? Sokka didn’t make that much money as an ambassador. He certainly couldn’t afford anything like that.

Before he could protest, the Fire Lord reached into his robe and pulled out a large pouch. He fished inside of it and handed over money. _A lot_ of money. Hakoda gawked.

The shopkeeper took the money, bowed, and returned to his desk.

“Sokka,” Zuko called. “He can make the boomerang for you.” The Fire Lord was already smiling, clearly expecting Sokka’s excited response. Hakoda watched his son set the dagger down—a bit too hastily for his heart to take—and nearly tackled his friend to the floor.

“Oh, the perks of being Fire Lord,” Sokka gushed, hugging the man in question. He released the hug, but looped his arm through Zuko’s affectionately. “Do you think…?” He trailed off, glancing back at the table he had just been at.

“The dagger, too,” Zuko said, his voice laced with humor. Sokka nearly squealed, leaning over and placing a quick peck on his friend’s cheek.

Hakoda froze.

He looked again at Sokka’s attire, wondering once again just how much it had cost. Wondering just how many outfits there were in total. He remembered the dinner from last night, recalling how much Sokka had eaten and how he had lost track of the cost halfway through the meal.

Then, Hakoda remembered when they were heading to bed. He remembered Sokka leaving him behind and going to stay with Zuko. He had thought they were just doing work. But… No, that couldn’t be it. He had raised Sokka to have more self-worth than that. Right?

Just then, Zuko used their intertwined arms to lift Sokka’s hand to his mouth. He placed a chaste kiss to his knuckles. A silver bracelet Hakoda hadn’t noticed before, adorned with rubies and sapphires, caught the light.

Hakoda turned around suddenly, not wanting to watch the two snuggle up near each other anymore. He couldn’t believe his own son had gotten himself into an arrangement like that. He and Kya had always told Sokka that he was worth so much. He was brave and funny and intelligent. He didn’t need to do _this_.

To distract himself, Hakoda grabbed the nearest object and inspected it. It was a machete, incredibly lightweight aside from the handle made from a heavy, expensive-looking marble laced with gold flecks. It was luxurious and impractical and it wasn’t helping to distract him at all.

From the corner of his eye, Hakoda saw Sokka leave the shop and head across the path to a stand with food. A figure came up beside him, and he didn’t need to turn to see that it was the Fire Lord.

“Do you… want anything?” His voice was quiet, tentative. He was looking at the machete in Hakoda’s hands.

Hakoda almost laughed. He was not about to let this young man buy him something, especially not something this expensive. But then he paused. It took a second for the offer to actually digest fully, in all its meaning, and when it did, Hakoda looked at Zuko with a mix of shock and horror.

First his son, and now himself? Did the Fire Lord have no shame?

“No,” he replied curtly. “Thank you.” He had half a mind to point the blade to the man’s throat and tell him to stop, to leave his son alone, but he tamped down his anger and set the machete on the table. He left the shop and headed over to Sokka, trying to keep the disappointment from his face for now. They would deal with this later.

Hakoda spent the rest of their outing in near-complete silence, clenching his jaw and standing a good meter or two away from the other men. By the time they returned to the palace, Zuko had bought his son more food than he could eat, a new pair of leather boots, a large hand-made tapestry, and a bottle of cologne—all of it to be delivered personally to the Fire Lord’s residence.

Sokka had certainly noticed his father’s odd behavior, sending him questioning looks throughout the trip and more than once asking if he was overheated or needed water. After the third or fourth time Hakoda gave him a snappy reply, he stopped asking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Hakoda, they got back to the palace and he told Sokka he wanted to speak with him _alone_. He shot a look at the Fire Lord, who bowed politely and left the two in a hurry.

“Okay,” Sokka started. “What is your deal today? Why are you so mad?” He almost looked amused, but there was an underlying worry there that Hakoda could sense. He took a deep breath and did his best to remember his dad face, the one he always used when he needed to scold his children when they teased each other too hard or forgot to do their chores.

“Son, I’m not mad,” he explained calmly. “I’m just disappointed.”

“That’s worse! You know that’s worse,” Sokka said, raising his eyebrows and pointing a finger in his face.

“I thought I raised you better than this,” he continued, pushing the pointed finger away.

“Better than what? What’s going on?” Sokka asked, starting to genuinely look upset. The humor had left his face, leaving concern in its place. _Good_ , Hakoda thought bitterly.

“You’re a smart man, Sokka. You’re an Ambassador, for spirits’ sake, it’s not like you have to live a life of squalor. I don’t understand why you think you need to do this, why you think you need Zuko to be your…” He sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Be my _what_ , Dad?” Sokka asked, anger starting to tinge his voice. He looked hurt, as if Hakoda had slapped him across the face. 

“Your…” Hakoda lowered his voice and leaned in, “ _sugar daddy_.”

Sokka seemed to break for a solid ten seconds while he stared blankly at Hakoda. Then, finally, he sucked in a deep breath and barked out a laughter so loud it echoed in the empty palace halls. With tears in his eyes, Sokka struggled to stop laughing, all of the fear and anger gone from his demeanor.

“Dad,” he choked out in between fits of laughter. “ _What_? I—We—I don’t—”

“What about this is funny?” Hakoda demanded, crossing his arms.

“ _Everything_ ,” Sokka insisted, wiping his eyes and settling down. Still chuckling a bit, he stared at his father incredulously. “Zuko and I have been dating for nearly three years. We told you this last year when we visited the South Pole.”

Hakoda furrowed his brow, thinking back. He remembered the visit—poor Zuko had to wear three parkas whenever he left the igloo—but he certainly didn’t remember being told this news. “You did not tell me you were dating,” he said. 

“We did. We definitely did. We sat you down over a fire and told you we were together and happy and loved each other a lot,” Sokka explained slowly, like he was talking to a child. Hakoda hummed, remembering that conversation. But he remembered interpreting it very differently.

“I assumed you meant as friends,” he muttered. “Like Bato and I.”

“Dad,” Sokka scoffed. When Hakoda tilted his head questioningly, his son’s jaw dropped. “ _Dad_. You are dating Bato. Everyone knows that. _Please_ tell me you know that.”

Hakoda was losing control of this conversation. He waved the comment off with a shake of his hand. “So Zuko’s not your… you know…”

“No,” Sokka said, exasperated.

“Then why was he buying you so many gifts?”

“Because I like gifts?” Sokka shrugged, smiling. “I like to be spoiled, so what? He likes spoiling me.” His son looked a little sheepish, rubbing the side of his arm and looking away. “Besides, he has more money than he knows what to do with. He can afford to be generous.”

Hakoda gave a soft, “Oh,” feeling as sheepish as Sokka looked. Perhaps he had misread the situation a bit.

With a pat to the shoulder, Hakoda offered a short apology and left his son, waiting until he got to his room to bury his face in his palms and groan. He supposed he should have trusted his son. He raised him right, after all.

Hakoda laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, mind wandering.

Bato? Were they really…?

No. Of course not. He would know.

…Right?

* * *

Zuko was pacing around his room, waiting for Sokka to return and feeling completely inconsolable. He had gone over everything in his mind, but could not for the life of him find what he had done wrong. Hakoda had always liked him before, treating him with kindness and respect. Maybe he was foolish, but he really thought they had a decent relationship.

He shouldn’t have offered to buy the machete. Out of everything, that seemed to be the only thing that could have possibly been what set him off. Zuko thought he was being polite, but maybe it was disrespectful to try buying something for the Chief of a Water Tribe? Some custom he wasn’t aware of?

Sighing, Zuko sat down at his vanity and starting brushing his hair. The comb hit a knot, pulling at his scalp painfully, and he nearly started crying.

The door to his room opened and Sokka came in, expression unreadable. They made eye contact through the mirror and Zuko pouted miserably.

“Your dad hates me,” he whined.

“Oh, Baby,” Sokka said, smiling. He pulled up a chair to sit behind Zuko, taking the comb from his hand and starting to brush the knots out of his hair gently. “He doesn’t hate you, I promise,” he assured. Zuko sighed, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of Sokka’s hands brushing over his hair. “He did think you were my sugar daddy, though.”

“ _What_?” Zuko’s eyes shot open to stare at his boyfriend through the mirror. Sokka set the comb down but continued to play with Zuko’s hair.

“Yeah, I guess there was a miscommunication somewhere along the line. Don’t worry, I set the record straight,” he said. His fingers separated the black hair into several strands and he started braiding them together loosely. “On a related note, I don’t think my dad knew he was dating Bato.”

Zuko chuckled at that, remembering how close the two men had been when they visited the Southern Water Tribe. Sokka had been ecstatic to see the two get together after years of pining. And if Hakoda hadn’t even know _he_ was in a relationship, it made sense that he wouldn’t pick up on his son’s relationship. Even though he and Zuko had been very clear, as far as he could remember. Still, it was—

Wait.

Zuko gasped, turning in his chair and grabbing his boyfriend’s hands. Sokka looked at him with wide eyes.

“Your dad thought I was a sugar daddy?” Sokka nodded slightly, and Zuko buried his face in his hands, groaning. “No wonder he looked so pissed off when I...”

“When you what?” Sokka asked, trying and failing to pry Zuko’s hands from his face. Zuko kept himself firmly hidden, humiliation washing over him.

“I tried to buy him something, Sokka. He must’ve thought I was…” He groaned again.

“Zuko,” Sokka gasped. “Did you _proposition_ my dad?”

“Not on purpose!” Zuko exclaimed, finally looking at his boyfriend. Sokka was grinning from ear to ear, looking like he was enjoying himself far too much.

“At least he didn’t accept,” Sokka said. He must’ve seen the misery in Zuko’s expression, because he softened and placed a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay, Baby. I bet he’s more embarrassed than you are right now.”

Zuko wasn’t sure that was even possible, but relented and nodded anyway, leaning his face into Sokka’s touch. After a moment, Sokka got an apprehensive look on his face.

“You know that’s not what this is, right? The gifts and all that,” Sokka said quietly. “It’s not why I’m with you. I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t buy me things. I don’t want this to seem one-sided.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped, looking away and biting his lip. Zuko thought he might melt into a puddle.

Did Sokka really think it was one-sided? Zuko could laugh at the absurdity. He showered his boyfriend in gifts, sure, but Zuko felt like he was the one who was truly spoiled. Sokka was so kind and gentle with him sometimes it felt like too much. Like when he would wash Zuko’s hair after he spent all day bustling around and was too tired to do it himself. Or when Zuko would wake from a nightmare screaming and immediately be engulfed in Sokka’s arms, safe and secure, lulled back to sleep with soothing words. He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Zuko, of course, didn’t quite know how to express this, so he said the next best thing he could think of.

“You’re an idiot.”

Still, Sokka seemed to get the message. The worry disappeared from his face and he looked at Zuko like he held all the world’s answers. He leaned in, and they pressed their lips together softly. Zuko melted into the kiss, thinking that this was exactly what he meant by feeling spoiled. Sokka pulled back, leaving just a fraction of an inch between them.

“Seriously, though,” he whispered. “Please don’t fuck my dad.”

Zuko groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> Also this was heavily inspired by [Intimate Counselors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949420) and [this tumblr post](https://khaleeseas.tumblr.com/post/624485424201711616).


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